Land of Bear and Land of Eagle
by ejb
Summary: Vanora's song in the tavern evokes a lot of memories.


_Disclaimer: I don't own any rights to the King Arthur movie, the film company does._

_Grateful thanks to Dickonfan for acting as my beta, giving me some suggestions for the story and for letting me use some references in her stories 'A Patchwork of Memories' and 'A Life's Mosaic.'_

Land of Bear and Land of Eagle

It was surprising how quickly in just a few seconds that the usual sounds of drunken revelry were hushed in the tavern that night.

Vanora had protested when Bors had insisted that she stop doing her work and sing for the assembled crowd. She soon got into the mood though and gave her audience a song of memories, a song of longing and a song of hope. Her audience were silenced within seconds by the haunting melody and the beautiful words.

Tristran, in the middle of eating an apple, listened intently to the words she was singing. He gazed at his brother knights whose faces, like his, were transfixed into seeing the visions of their homeland. Galahad even had his eyes shut to close out the reality of his present surroundings. Gawain had lost interest in the girl at his side as he thought of the girls in his own homeland. One of whom he hoped to find love with and marry and raise a family when he returned.

Lancelot had taken a swig of his drink before staring into space, seeing nobody around him, just the hills and mountains of faraway Sarmatia in his mind. Women were not such a big issue with him; any girl would do from anywhere. Dagonet stood still too deep in thought. Bors also stood still and thought about home but he had no desire to be back there now. He had his home here now with Vanora and their children and wanted to be free from the service of Rome. He had plans to stay and make a living for himself and his family in the district as soon as the Romans left.

For Tristran, not only were memories of his home were evoked. He remembered those who had made the journey long ago to this place in the service of Rome. They had fought many battles and died. Like the rest of his brother knights with him now in the tavern, they once had longing and hope of going home but that hope was lost for ever and they were now dead and buried in the cemetery.

One of them had been Baelmain. He was from the same village as Tristran, and his father had been the carpenter there. Tristran had known Baelmain since boyhood and the two of them had made the journey here in the service of Rome. They trained together, grew to manhood and fought many battles together until a Woad's spear had ended Baelmain's life.

Each Woad that Tristran killed now was an act of vengeance for Baelmain and the rest of the knights who had died in battle against them. He hated the Romans too, because if it were not for them, all of his brother knights both alive and dead would have been happy in Sarmatia.

They would have lived lives according to their tribal customs, married and passed the skills they had learned from their village elders on to their own sons. Rome had robbed so many of them of the chance to do that.

After a few minutes Vanora's song ended and the knights' visions of home ended. The tavern reverted to the same noisy and drunken atmosphere that it usually had at this time of night, until Arthur appeared and gave them the news he dreaded imparting to them. They had one more task to perform in the service of Rome before their freedom would be granted.

The protests had been inevitable and useless. Arthur too was not happy with the situation either but his hands were tied. He had received orders and had to comply.

Tristran accepted that they would all be meeting the next morning to ride out to the north. He left the now depressive atmosphere of the tavern and made his way back to his quarters. If he was going to fight a battle the next day he might as well get some rest.

Tristran, his mind still full of memories of home after hearing Vanora singing, along with the disappointing news that Arthur had just given the knights, walked into his room and closed the door. He lit the small lamp in the corner and went over to his bed. He pulled out the box containing his personal belongings from beneath it. There were some things he just had to see again before he went to sleep.

The first thing he saw was the patchwork cover he had made from the small parts of the clothes of his brother knights that had died in battle. The bright yellow piece in the centre was from Baelmain's tunic. Tristran had decided to put that part there as it reminded him of the rising sun. A part of day that he and Tristran both loved the most and Baelmain chose the colour to wear under his armour for that reason.

Seeing the patchwork cover reminded him of the mosaic he had made that depicted a scene of Sarmatia, and was stolen from him. A flash of anger went through his mind remembering this he but pushed it away as being sentimental and irrelevant now.

Putting the patchwork cover carefully to one side he then took up two small objects that Baelmain had made and had been in his quarters after his death. Tristran had taken them to have as a keepsake and to keep them safe for him. He thought they were too well made to just end up on a rubbish tip. The knights had very few personal possessions and once a knight had been killed in battle his quarters were quickly re-assigned to a new one, to take his place.

The objects were an expertly hand carved wooden bear and an eagle. Baelwain had learned many skills in wood carving in his father's workshop and everybody expected him to follow in his father's footsteps in the trade had not Rome intervened with the plan. Tristran remembered Baelwain going to the carpenter's workshop here in the vicas and asking for some off cuts of wood to make them to remind him of his home.

Tristran ran his hand along the outstretched wings of the eagle and that had been carved down to the finest detail. Then he put them both down on top of the patchwork quilt and put the box away.

No use brooding too much on memories and being sad. He had work to do the next day and it was time to get some rest for it. Before that though, he made up his mind to do something before meeting Arthur and the others to ride out the next morning.

The next morning the rest of the knights had assembled in the stable ready to ride out and wondered where Tristan was. Arthur would be coming in soon and expected them all to be assembled and ready.

Tristran stood in the Knight's Cemetery and looked out over the many graves of the brave men he knew and those he had never met that had been killed in battles fought long ago. Their swords were still standing erect over each plot as testimony to their courage and bravery.

As the winter sun was rising in a clear, cloudless sky, Tristran walked over to the place where he knew Baelmain lay buried.

"Here, my friend, these are yours," Tristran said as he placed the carved wooden bear and eagle on Baelmain's grave. "I've kept them safe for you all of this time and don't want them to fall into another's hands for fear that they may not know their worth and they will be destroyed. If I ever get back home I will tell them of the great battles you fought and won and of your bravery."

His mission completed at the cemetery, Tristran turned his mind now on what lay ahead. He made his way to the stable and met up with the others.

"We were wondering where you were," Galahad said. "Arthur will be here soon."

Tristran said nothing but went to saddle his horse then after that he sat down and began sharpening his sword with strong deliberate strokes as if already in his mind he was thrusting it into a Woad or a Saxon's body.

Arthur appeared soon after, still looking anxious at having been forced to make this last assignment for Rome.

Silently Arthur and the knights rode out together to their given task and to whatever destiny had in store for them. All had hope in their hearts that they would all return safely to this place, receive their freedom and, all except Bors, return to the land that had gave them birth and blessing.

The end


End file.
